I don’t really have time to trip off what white folk think. I have never considered myself to be a ‘good Negro.’ And I’m not. I wasn’t raised to be one. I was raised to love, to think and to question. It was only when I began to examine my own childhood, and my own experiences, where I could see elements that were taught to me that indeed were supposed to help me become–less me.
My father taught me to not let everyone know exactly what I knew. Or say exactly what I thought. These are two things which put in Jim Crow context keep the young, gifted and black alive. However, it’s really hard to tell a writer not to do exactly that.
When I think of what it means to think about ‘what white people think’, it makes me remember being a respectable, good Negro is a myth. It makes me think of unaffordable censorship to be black. I don’t have the time to worry about what people who are not my experience and community (read: white) think of my boldness, the reverberation of my voice, and my audacity being black and female while doing it.
I don’t have the time worry about what the oppressor thinks, I am too busy heeding the advice of a Mother Oracle:
“For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. Racism and homophobia are real conditions of all our lives in this place and time. I urge each one of us here to reach down into that deep place of knowledge inside herself and touch that terror and loathing of any difference that lives here. See whose face it wears. Then the personal as the political can begin to illuminate all our choices.”
You don’t have the time to worry about what white people think. You don’t have time to worry about the perception of what white people think about your blog–you have no time for those opposed to your voice, drive and vision to dislike what you have to say.
Now, if there are genuine allies whom like your stuff, support your art, this is awesome. Blogs run by people of color, written by people of color, need allyship but are no defined, and will not be censored by its acceptance.
Writing gives and creates space–it always has. In that creation, I am able to truly not give a damn…and not care what white people think about what I wrote, or may even hunger to read it. My words are mine–even if only God and I see them.